Fatal Reunion - A James Acton Thriller Book #33 Page 4

  But not now, not at 25. His father should have at least a couple more decades of life in him, but if Ferreira were to be believed, and the family physician was rarely wrong, he wouldn’t see tomorrow.

  He stared at the pool, filled with friends and local girls brought in for the daily parties, and sighed. It was over.

  “Something wrong?” asked Suriya as she continued to work her magic.

  “My father is dying.”

  Her fingers froze as she gasped. “The king is dying?”

  He reached back and slapped one of her hands and she resumed. “Yes. He’ll probably be dead before the day is out.”

  “That’s horrible! I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  “I bet you are.”

  Her fingers slowed. “What do you mean by that?”

  He bolted to his feet. “I mean, you like him, don’t you? You can’t imagine him not being your king! You’re scared that when I become king, I’ll ruin everything!”

  She stared at him wide-eyed, her mouth agape. “I said no such thing! I think you’ll make a fine king. I just meant it must be sad to lose your father. I’m just not used to referring to him as anything but the king.”

  He glared at her, then spun, shooting daggers at his so-called friends as they judged him with their icy stares. “You all think it, don’t you? You all think I’m not worthy of being king. You’re all worried what will happen when I take my father’s place.”

  Nobody said anything, most diverting their gaze, the cowards unwilling to challenge him, for they all knew that tomorrow he could have them killed with a snap of his fingers. He drew a deep breath, exhaling loudly as he thought about what was truly happening. Tomorrow, perhaps even tonight, he would be king. It meant he was all-powerful. He was the law, and no one could deny him any want or desire. Once king, he could still party like he always had. What his subjects thought be damned.

  He would have ultimate power.

  The thought had his anger turning to excitement, and for the first time since the news about his father, he wasn’t scared, he wasn’t leery—he wanted it. He wanted the power, the adoration. He might have to quench his public appetites somewhat, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the delights of the female populace in the privacy of his own bedchambers.

  He dropped back into his chair and Suriya resumed the massage. He waved a hand at the crowd, deciding he better start acting like a king. “I’m sorry, everyone. I guess my father’s imminent death has me more upset than I realized.”

  “I’m sorry if I said anything to upset you,” said Suriya.

  He turned back to face her and smiled. “You said nothing improper.” He again waved his hand at the others. “Please, continue. We’re here to enjoy ourselves. And while we will soon have something to mourn, we will also have something to celebrate. We will all weep at my father the king’s passing, then we will rejoice in my coronation.”

  His best friend, Aphon, thrust his drink in the air. “To the future king!”

  Cheers erupted and Thammathibet smiled, a shiver rushing through him as his name was shouted with a reverence he had never before heard. If this was what it felt like to be king, then perhaps what was soon to come wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  He spotted the senior abbot, Luang, beckoning him near the gate that surrounded the pool area. He couldn’t recall ever seeing the man here, and with what was going on, it must be related to his father. He rose and strode swiftly toward the man. “What is it, Abbot?”

  Luang glanced about nervously. “I must speak with you. In private.”

  “Of course.” Thammathibet led the elderly man away from the gathering and into the pool house, making certain it was empty. “What is it you need to speak to me about? Is it about the king?”

  Luang’s chin was pressed against his chest, his shoulders rolled forward as if he were about to say the most forbidden of things. “Yes.”

  “What is it?”

  “I just spoke with the king, and…” The man’s voice was quaking. He was terrified, something Thammathibet had never seen in the man.

  “What has you so upset?”

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this. It is not my place, however, tradition dictates…”

  Thammathibet was tiring of this. “Tradition dictates what?” he snapped.

  Luang flinched and backed away a step.

  Thammathibet repeated his question, this time with a forced calm. “Tradition dictates what?”

  “That the eldest inherits the throne.”

  “Yes, we all know—” He stopped, his heart hammering as his eyebrows shot up. “Wait, are you suggesting—”

  “The king has instructed me to give the Mask of Succession to your younger brother, not to you.”

  It was Thammathibet’s turn to take an involuntary step back. “Wh-what?”

  “He intends for Uthumphon to succeed him as king, not you.”

  Thammathibet dropped onto a nearby bench, his head shaking. “Can he do that? I thought tradition—”

  “Tradition is not law. By tradition, the eldest son inherits, however, there have been cases through our history where there was no direct male heir, and someone else was chosen, usually a close male relative. The real tradition is that he who first wears the Mask of Succession after the king dies, becomes king until he himself dies.”

  Thammathibet stared at his feet, his head still shaking. “So, he can do this?”

  “He is the king. He can do anything he wants.”

  “But once he’s dead, you no longer have to obey his wishes.”

  Luang gasped at the very notion. “I must follow the wishes given to me by my king, until such time as there is a new king to countermand them. I will be giving the mask to your younger brother. I am bound by my oath.”

  Thammathibet sat back and regarded Luang with a deep frown. “Then why are you telling me this?”

  “Tradition dictates you should be king. I believe in that tradition, despite…” His voice trailed off, and he turned slightly away.

  “Despite the worthiness of he who should inherit?”

  “I dare not say such a thing.”

  Thammathibet grunted. “You’re not the only one who feels that way.” He sighed. “Even I feel it.”

  Luang risked a glance. “Your Highness?”

  Thammathibet exhaled loudly. “You and I both know that I am not ready to be king. I would make a terrible king. I had always assumed I would have time to grow into the role. Now that chance has been taken from me with my father’s untimely demise.”

  “He’s not dead yet.”

  “No, I suppose he’s not, however, you wouldn’t be here if you had any hope of him surviving much longer.”

  Luang said nothing, though responded with a single nod.

  “Then why tell me? To what end?”

  “Perhaps there is still time to change his mind.” Luang finally met his gaze. “Should you wish to be king.”

  9 |

  Acton/Palmer Residence St. Paul, Maryland Present Day

  Interpol Agent Hugh Reading stared at his surroundings, shaking his head in disbelief. The size of the house his best friends now owned was immense by British standards, especially London standards, and he was happy for them. Laura had inherited an unfathomable amount of money when her tech-entrepreneur brother had died, yet had never taken up the opulent lifestyle it could have provided her.

  It was one of the reasons he respected the two of them so much.

  They were rich, but normal. Well, mostly normal. Normal people didn’t keep running toward the danger, rather than away from it. He was thankful they had invited him to see the new house, and that they were staying put in nice, safe, simple Maryland, where there was little chance of getting into trouble.

  “What do you think?” asked Acton. “A little bigger than we wanted, but once we’re settled, it will start to feel like home.”

  Reading grunted. “Who’s going to clean it?”

  “We’re getting a maid,” echoed his friends, and he had to laugh.

  “I think you might need staff with this place, not just a maid.”

  Acton scratched his chin. “I hadn’t thought about that. That’s so Downton Abbey.”

  Laura shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.” She held out a hand toward a set of stairs. “Let’s get you settled in your room.”

  He followed them up the stairs, both of them carrying his luggage, much to his outward annoyance, though thankful for it. The years were creeping up on him, and everything ached these days. He sometimes wondered if life were worth living with the pain, but friends like this, and his son, kept him going.

  But the job?

  It was a desk job for the most part, but he didn’t find it rewarding. The only sense of accomplishment he now had in life usually surrounded getting these two out of messes.

  They walked down a ridiculously long hallway then Laura opened a door at the far end, pushing it aside. “Welcome to your new home away from home.”

  Acton beamed a smile at him, and Laura was as giddy as he had ever seen her.

  And he was puzzled, his eyes narrowing.

  He stepped inside and gasped. To call this a bedroom would be an insult to bedrooms the world over. It was a suite. Greeting him was a living area with a couch and chairs along with a large television. To his right was an open concept kitchenette, and through another door he could see a full bedroom with a king-sized bed.

  “What’s all this?” he asked as he spotted a photo of his son, Spencer, sitting on the fireplace mantle.

  Acton squeezed his shoulder. “This is your home away from home. It’s yours whenever you want to visit.”

  Laura wiped a tear. “No one will ever stay here except you, so if you want to change anything, just let us kno
w. If you want to leave any personal items, feel free.”

  Reading’s chest tightened and he squeezed his eyes shut. This couple had done so much for him over the years, but this was beyond anything he could have imagined. He sniffed. “Bollocks. You’ve made an old man cry.”

  Laura embraced him and he held her tight, grabbing Acton by the shoulder and giving him a shake. “We love you, Hugh. You know that.”

  He sighed, wiping his eyes dry with a knuckle. “You two are too good to me. I don’t deserve this.”

  Laura gently pushed away, staring into his eyes. “You absolutely deserve this. You’re family, and family should be together whenever possible. You can visit whenever you want, for as long as you want.”

  Acton wiped his own eyes dry. “And we’ve discussed it and agreed that if you want to retire here, or split your time between the UK and here, we’d love to have you.”

  Reading’s shoulders shook and he turned away, ashamed of his emotional display. He was old school. Men didn’t cry, men bottled up their emotions. But this was too much. Back home he was so alone. His son was busy with his life, he was divorced, he didn’t socialize with anyone at work besides his partner, and she had her own life. His best friend from Scotland Yard was dead, and his mates had moved on with their lives.

  It was painfully lonely at times.

  He had grown very close to Acton and Laura over the years, and was even on friendly terms with some of the Delta Force team and CIA operatives that peppered their lives from time to time. Tommy and Mai were like grandchildren to him, and much to his astonishment, the idea of retiring in America rather than back home had appeal.

  “You’d grow sick of me.”

  Acton laughed, slapping him on the back. “Not before you’re sick of us.” He stepped deeper into the suite. “You have everything here you’ll need. You could hole up in here and never come out if you want. We intentionally picked this house because of this suite. We wanted you to feel like you had a home here, rather than being a guest.”

  He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. The generosity of his friends knew no bounds. They always invited him on their vacations, paying for everything, yet this was something more. They were always doing things for their students and strangers, never asking for any credit, never expecting any repayment.

  They were generous beyond compare.

  He stepped over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, frowning at the essentials filling the shelves. “What, no pints?”

  Acton stepped over and opened a door under the counter he had mistaken for a dishwasher. “Beer fridge.”

  Reading laughed. “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “Wait until you see the shower. It’s got—”

  The wail of a siren interrupted them and they all stepped over to the window to see a firetruck rush past as a car pulled into their driveway.

  “Oh, Mai and Tommy are here,” said Laura as she bounced on her toes. “I can’t wait to tell them the news!” She rushed from the room, leaving Acton to explain.

  “She’s got a surprise for Mai. Why don’t we head downstairs, since this involves you, if you want?”

  Reading tossed his head back and groaned. “What are you getting me into this time?”

  Acton laughed and slapped him on the back as they headed for the stairs. “You’ll see. Nothing crazy, nothing dangerous. Just a little bit of fun.”

  “Uh-huh. Why do I get the feeling I’m being set up?”

  Acton flashed an innocent look. “I would never do anything like that.”

  “Bollocks.” Reading smiled broadly at Tommy and Mai, giving the young man a hearty handshake and returning Mai’s excited hug.

  “Did you see your new room?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  He nodded. “I did, but I don’t think I’d call that a room. It’s more like a flat.”

  Tommy agreed. “It’s amazing! So, do you think you’ll live there when you retire?”

  Reading gave him a look. “Let’s not be putting me out to pasture just yet, lad.” He gestured toward the main entrance. “What was the firetruck for?”

  “Your neighbor’s car is on fire.”

  Laura gasped, her hand darting to her chest. “Oh no! I hope no one is hurt.”

  “It was in the driveway with a bunch of people standing around it. They didn’t look panicked.”

  “Which house?” asked Acton.

  “Two doors down, across the street. Big one with a gate.”

  Acton chuckled, elbowing Reading. “You know what they drive?”

  Reading grunted. “In a neighborhood like this, I’m suspecting something more expensive than that beat-up beast you’ve got parked outside.”

  “Oh, it’s a domestic sportscar, at least for you.”

  Reading laughed. “Spontaneous combustion. That’s a new one, even for them.”

  Laura invited everyone into the living room with an extended arm. “Shall we?”

  They stepped into the unfamiliar surroundings, and everyone stood about for a moment, wondering where they should sit. Their old home essentially had assigned seating since it was so familiar, but now everything was new. Acton went first, sitting on a couch, then Laura sat beside him. Tommy and Mai took a loveseat, and Reading chose what appeared to be a ridiculously comfortable chair.

  He moaned.

  “All right, this is where I’m retiring.”

  Acton laughed. “I thought you might like that, but I wanted to be sure. We’ll show you the upholstery samples later so we can order one for your room.”

  Reading shook his head. “You’ve done too much already.”

  “It’s already done. We just need you to pick the upholstery.”

  Mai giggled. “You should know by now that there’s no fighting them.”

  Reading sighed, leaning his head back. “You’re right. I don’t know why I bother.” He regarded Laura. “Now, enough about what you’ve done for me. I understand you have news?”

  Laura smiled and leaned closer to Mai. “I have a surprise for you.”

  Tommy’s face lit up. “Is it a chair like that?”

  Laura swatted a hand at him. “Behave. Mai…” She choked up and Mai’s eyes flooded.

  “What is it?”

  “We’re all heading to Cambodia tomorrow.”

  Mai jerked back slightly. “Cambodia? Why?”

  “We’ve—”

  Acton interrupted. “She. This is all Laura’s doing.”

  Laura smiled at him. “Very well. I have arranged for you to see your father.”

  Mai leaped to her feet, her eyes wide, her mouth agape. “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yes. It’s all been arranged. If everything goes to plan, you’ll see him the day after tomorrow.”

  Mai hopped up and down with excitement, the poor girl having not seen her father in years, and resigned to the fact she likely would never see him again due to her political status. She leaned forward to hug Laura but stumbled, falling into her lap. They both laughed as they held each other, Tommy now on his feet as he extended a hand over them to thank Acton.

  Reading smiled at the scene. Today was a good day. A very good day. He had been depressed lately, but his friends had certainly cured him of that, at least for now.

  His smile turned into a frown.

  “Wait a minute, did you say you got visas for all of us?”

  Acton grinned. “Yes. You’re coming with us, if you want.”

  Reading groaned. “Another hot, uncomfortable country. You nearly killed me with India.”

  “We didn’t nearly kill you, the Chinese did.”

  “You were making a hell of an effort before they got involved.”

  Mai and Tommy returned to their seats and Laura attempted to make him feel a little better. “We’ll leave here tomorrow, take the jet, and arrive in Phnom Penh the next morning.”

  He could already feel his ass and back protesting. “How many hours?”

  “Almost a full day. But this time I’ve requested a sleeper jet. You will actually have your own little room where you can sleep, in privacy, the entire flight if you want, with an actual bed.”